


Bad Taste

by 12snails



Series: The Van der Linde Coffeehouse AU [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12snails/pseuds/12snails
Summary: Arthur Morgan is pretty certain that a new customer at the Van der Linde Coffeehouse is existing solely to get on his nerves.





	1. Pumpkin Spice Peppermint Mocha Latte

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if anyone wrote a coffeeshop AU yet, but I started this a while ago and finally decided to start posting, so enjoy???

At any given time, on any given day, The Van der Linde Coffeehouse, had at least three patrons sipping on finely crafted coffee while they mostly kept to themselves. Some would read and some would write, but Arthur’s favorite patrons were the ones who would draw. They would be hunched over their sketchbooks, scribbling furiously, often leaving their drink untouched. Those were the people he had a real soft spot for.

Arthur took pride in his work at the coffeehouse. Although some would say he was _just_ a barista, it was still work he was proud of. Under Hosea Matthews’ tutelage, Arthur became an expert in coffee recommendations, steaming and frothing milk, and extracting the best cup of coffee, among other skills. Hosea’s business partner, Dutch, had given him lessons in communication and making art from latte foam. Arthur had ran with these art lessons and could now create elaborate works of foam art that continually impressed the guests while holding a natural conversation too. To Arthur, each beverage he made was a little work of art that he cared about, and demonstrated his dedication to Dutch, Hosea, and their business.

Maybe Arthur’s pride in his drinks was why he became so offended when a customer came in and ordered “a pumpkin spice peppermint mocha latte.”

The customer _looked_ like the usual clientele, save for his messy hair, and he dressed well-enough. He donned a worn, black leather jacket over a dark grey t-shirt with tight-fitting black jeans ripped at the knees. His leather motorcycle boots were well-worn in too; Arthur was unsure if this was a manufactured vintage “look” or if he just dressed that way on a regular basis. Either way, it suited him, and Arthur wasn’t blind; the man had a handsome face that was only complemented by the scars that ran from his jaw over the bridge of his nose. In fact, Arthur’s mouth went a little dry at the sight of him—that was, until the customer had opened his damn mouth. Arthur had pegged him for the type that would come in, order a plain, black coffee and be on his way, but this rare occasion, Arthur had been wrong.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asked, squinting at the man in front of him. They were about the same height and Arthur could easily lock eyes with the stranger.

“Yeah, you heard me—a Jack Skellington.”

“A Jack what?” This had to be a joke. Now, Arthur’s eyes scanned the room to look for a hidden camera or to see Grimshaw laughing to herself, only to find neither.

“You know—Halloween and Christmas. A pumpkin spice peppermint mocha latte. Been callin’ it a Jack Skellington.” The explanation only made Arthur roll his eyes. This asshole clearly thought he was being funny or clever—either way, it was a terrible joke and he wanted nothing more than to kick him out of the shop.

“You can’t make a mocha and a latte in the same drink, _sir_.” Arthur emphasized the sir to really lay the condescension on thick.

“I know that—just…make ‘em both a small then pour ‘em together in a large cup?”

 _So, he is serious_ , Arthur thought, feeling a piece of himself wither away inside. Arthur breathed in deeply and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “If I do this, I’m charging you for two small drinks. Understood?”

The man nodded and reached for his wallet to pay. As Arthur rung out the purchase, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening, and that  _this_ was his life right now.

Silently, Arthur began to make the two drinks, taking his usual care despite their fate. It physically pained him to look at the two separate, beautiful drinks before mixing them together in a large cup, placing a lid on it, and handing it to his new patron. “Here’s the abomination you ordered.”

The customer grinned as he took the cup and looked back at Arthur, “Thanks.” He took a seat nearby, removed the lid of the drink to let it cool, and looked up again, conscious of Arthur watching him.

The pair locked eyes and Arthur felt compelled to explain himself, “Just wanted to see your face when you take your first sip of that monstrosity.”

“Then cheers!” The man lifted his cup in a mock toast before taking a careful sip. His face gave no indication as to the taste, but then he smiled and nodded. “Yep. That’s terrible.” By now, one of the regular customers was glancing at the scene; it was like watching a train wreck and no one could look away.

Arthur rolled his eyes and got back to work, not acknowledging what he knew was going to happen anyways. What did surprise him, however, was that the man sat there, finished his drink, and left a dollar in the tip jar on the counter before going on his way.

A part of Arthur hoped this customer never came near him, the shop, and their coffee ever again, but another part of Arthur was intrigued by this character and hoped he’d make a return visit.

\--

Sure enough, “pumpkin spice peppermint man,” as he was referred to at the coffeehouse, returned later that week. This time, he came just in time for the café’s monthly poetry reading. 

As Arthur watched him approach the counter, he could not help but tease, “Here for another awful concoction?”

The customer tilted his head up, revealing a red handkerchief tied tightly like a collar around his throat. The sight made Arthur swallow a lump that had formed in his throat and he tried to not let his eyes linger too long.

“Not this time,” the man answered with a smile that Arthur took as _still_ mischievous looking. “Could I get the um…chocolate covered strawberry iced mocha, but without the coffee part?”

Arthur knew he was reading that smile correctly, and this time, he stared at the customer in silence for at least ten seconds before speaking. “You…do realize that just leaves milk, ice, chocolate, and strawberry flavoring, right?”

“Yeah. Sounds good, don’t it?” Once again, the patron drew out his wallet to pay and Arthur reluctantly rung up his purchase.

As Arthur began making the chocolate strawberry…milk? he could hear Sadie reading some of her poetry. _God, that girl ain’t right_ , Arthur thought to himself, shaking his head before he looked over at his new regular thinking, _And he ain’t right either_. Arthur put the lid on the drink before sliding it to the customer. “There you go, a drink fit for a 5-year-old.”

The man tipped the worn-in hat he was wearing and gave Arthur a wink that made Arthur blush the slightest bit. “Thank you kindly.” He leaned against the counter as he took a sip and sighed contently. “Yep, just like I thought—chocolate covered strawberry milk.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he wiped off the countertop out of habit. The only sounds in the café was a faint piano track playing over the store speakers and Sadie’s poetry before Arthur’s curious customer broke the silence again. “That woman okay?”

Arthur looked up with a bit of surprise; he hadn’t expected his interactions with this customer to go beyond him paying Arthur to make his terrible drink dreams become a reality. “Oh, Sadie? Yeah, I reckon she’s alright.” Arthur paused and looked down at the counter in consideration before adding, “I mean…she comes here every poetry reading and got something new. Mostly about killin’ and being angry and—yeah, maybe she ain’t alright.”

The man gave a quiet laugh as he looked over at Arthur. “So you know most of the folks here?”

“Just about everyone but you.” 

“’Scuse me then,” the customer grinned and turned to offer his hand to Arthur, “I’m John.”

“Arthur.” Arthur reached over to shake John’s hand, smirking to himself as he added, “It’s nice to formally meet you, John. Now my coworkers and I can stop callin’ you the pumpkin spice peppermint man.”

“The what?” John tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, but still had a smile on his face. Arthur was uncomfortable with the fact he was finding himself enjoying those playful smiles so much.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” At this, John rolled his eyes and waved his hand to dismiss Arthur with a chuckle. Arthur watched as John took a seat to listen to the poetry while enjoying his chocolate covered strawberry milk.

John would applaud Sadie when she was done and even stayed to listen to Charles’ beautiful poetry that no one quite understood, giving him the same enthusiastic applause. The man may have ruined perfectly good coffee, but Arthur couldn’t help liking him.


	2. Strawberry Red Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finds that John is full of surprises when he returns to the Van der Linde Coffeehouse on Open Mic Night.

Much to Arthur’s dissatisfaction, John didn’t return to the coffeehouse until Open Mic Night. If he was being honest, Arthur hated himself for being disappointed, and he hated himself even more for wondering what drink John would ruin next. There were even moments Arthur would catch himself coming up with awful drink combinations in his head.

This time, John came up to the counter, contemplatively eyeing the menu. Would John surprise him with an _actual_ order? “Long time, no see,” Arthur mused, wiping his hands off on a towel as he walked to the register to take John’s order.

“Been busy at work and all…” John trailed off as he continued to squint at the menu.

“Yeah? What do you do?” Arthur leaned against the counter while John took his time looking the menu and daily specials over.

“Mechanic.” The answer was quick and careless, as if the topic wasn’t more interesting than picking a coffee.

“Oh,” Arthur replied, breathing in deeply as he thought, _So much for actual conversation_. He tried his luck again, “So you had a lot of cars in the shop then?”

“Motorcycles. I only know motorcycles.” John pulled his attention away from the menu and looked back to Arthur, his expression softening now. “I’m the only guy at MacFarlane’s who works on ‘em so I get real swamped sometimes.”

“Makes sense then,” Arthur said as he nodded, and really, he was impressed that John knew any mechanic work at all. From his drink choices, he assumed the guy was a moron and it was kind of a relief to see that wasn’t the case. “So, what can I get you today?”

“If I give you two cans of Red Bull, can you just put it over ice and add some flavor shots to it? Need some energy after today.”

This time, Arthur ran his palm over his face, breathing in deeply. “Yeah. Sure. But the flavor shots will still cost you.”

John nodded enthusiastically, taking a leather backpack off to pull two cans of Red Bull from it, sliding them across the counter to Arthur. “Strawberry works.”

“Okay.” Arthur sighed a little as he rang up the flavor shots. Never a dull moment with this one. He wondered if John _always_ carried two cans of Red Bull on him, but decided not to ask; he didn’t really want to know the answer.

John thanked Arthur for the drink when it was done and he stood by, taking a sip. It was just as good as he imagined it would be, but even if it hadn’t been, he would have downed it anyways for the energy.

“So you sticking around for the rest of Open Mic?” Arthur asked, cleaning the counters as usual. Currently, another regular, Javier, was at the front of the café playing his guitar and singing along. Arthur liked when he came to Open Mic; Javier’s talents deserved an audience way beyond what the Van der Linde Coffeehouse could offer, yet he was there every Open Mic Night.

“Yeah, I thought I would. I mean, he’s pretty good, ain’t he?” John nodded his head towards Javier, letting his gaze linger in the musician’s direction.

“Oh sure, but not everyone is a Javier,” Arthur laughed after saying that last part quietly to John; he didn’t want to offend anyone there or discourage them, but it was the truth.

John looked at Arthur knowingly and gave a nod before answering, “I’ll take my chances.” He took a seat to enjoy his Red Bulls and once again offered everyone the same amount of enthusiasm he did for the poetry readings. If John didn’t like an act, he was sure good at hiding it. He even let out a holler with applause when Karen had finished singing, despite her lack in actual musical talent. The scene made Arthur smile to himself—that was until Dutch emerged from his office to say to Arthur, “If you got time to lean you got time to clean, Arthur.”

Arthur responded with a simple, “Shut up, Dutch.” Only Arthur, Grimshaw, or Hosea could get away with talking like that to Dutch.

By the end of the night, the usual crowd was still hanging around the cafe and Arthur was surprised to see that John was still there too. As Pearson made the announcement for any last calls to take the mic, John raised his hand. He turned to Javier and asked, “Could I borrow your guitar, brother?” Surprisingly, Javier handed over his prized possession to John so that he could take a seat at the mic.

John plucked a couple notes on the guitar, warming up before looking at the small gathering with a smile on his face, and then began to _sing_. For a man that sounded like he smoked at least a pack a day, he had a good singing voice that was well-suited to country or blues. His rendition of “House of the Rising Sun” made the café fall silent and Arthur had once again paused his cleaning to watch John.

Arthur didn’t like how his stomach knotted up as he listened to John. He really didn’t like how watching John sing his heart out made him blush. But he especially didn’t even like how he applauded John when the song was over and gave him a whistle. Most of all, Arthur despised how John’s smile as he looked up from the guitar made him, a grown man, get butterflies in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI strawberry Red Bull over ice is actually really good.


	3. Pumpkin Milk Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the coffeehouse with some company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those parents that bring their kids places and just let them run wild? That has John written all over it.

The next time John came in to the coffeeshop, Arthur was pretty damn surprised to see him holding the hand of a boy who looked to be no older than four. When they approached the counter, Arthur gave the boy a big smile and raised an eyebrow as he asked, “So who do we have here?”

John laughed as he looked at Arthur, then back to his son, “This is my boy—Jack.”

 _His boy_. The words felt like a punch to the gut because _that_ meant there was probably a woman in John’s life, and Arthur couldn’t help but feel discouraged. But since when did he care who was in John’s life and who wasn’t? The guy was strange, had awful taste in beverages, most likely smoked too much, and it was probably for the best he was taken—at least Arthur would tell himself that. Arthur kept a smile on his face for Jack though, despite his disappointment. “It’s nice to meet you Jack, I’m Arthur. Can I get you something to drink?”

For some reason, Arthur expected Jack to be a miniature John. He braced himself for the strangest request—perhaps chocolate milk with pumpkin flavor and cinnamon? But it was actually more shocking when Jack simply said, “Hot cocoa please.”

“And an iced pumpkin spiced latte with no coffee for me,” John added, all too casually.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at John, but this time, he wouldn’t reprimand him in front of his son. Instead, he rang up their purchases and went off to make the hot cocoa and John’s damn _pumpkin milk_.

While Arthur was busy making drinks, John let go of Jack’s hand, letting him wander about the café. Jack was quick to make friends by just walking up to other tables and striking up conversation. The kid was cute, but Arthur rolled his eyes to himself at John’s lack of supervision. Instead, John was on his phone texting someone while Jack did what he wanted.

“Here you go—one hot cocoa and chilled _pumpkin milk_.” Arthur emphasized the last part in a feeble attempt at making John feel some sort of shame for his choices.

Naturally, it didn’t work and John took both drinks, giving Arthur a nod. “Thanks, Arthur.” He turned to grab a table with Jack, calling the boy over to him so they could sit together and have their drinks.

Arthur couldn’t help but eavesdrop and watch the pair on and off. John was downright _awkward_ with the kid; like he didn’t spend a lot of time with him. Arthur felt bad for thinking, _Maybe he ain’t with anyone after all_. But what if John was a deadbeat dad? Well, that was no good either. _How bad could he be though?_ Arthur reflected, _He’s at least spendin’ time with the boy_. It was a lot more than many kids got these days.

Once again, Arthur hated himself just a little more for ignoring the red flags of terrible drink choices and wanting to know _more_ about John instead of wishing him away like he ought to.


	4. Cinnamon Cappuccino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John lets Arthur choose what he drinks this time, and Arthur's teasing goes a bit too far.

The next time John came to the coffeehouse, he did not have Jack in tow. Arthur deduced that John must have just came from work because he was covered head to toe in what looked to be dirt and grease from work at the garage. “How’s it going, John?” Arthur asked, giving John a once-over. He considered whether he should tell John his work boots were untied or not before deciding it wasn’t worth it—John probably knew and didn’t care. Must have been _that_ sort of day.

John gestured to all of himself and sighed deeply, “Work’s been…something today. Gonna need you to brew me up somethin’ good, Arthur. Need to wake up.”

The playful resignation in John’s voice made Arthur smile and he gave John a nod as he answered, “Yeah, I can do that. How ‘bout you let me pick this time though?” Arthur figured that if John let him pick, he wouldn’t have to make a drink that made him want to walk out of his job forever.

“Alright, sure. As long as it’s got lots of caffeine.” After paying for his mystery brew, John leaned against the counter with his back facing Arthur.

Glancing up as he began to make John’s drink, Arthur could get a good look at just how broad John’s shoulders were in comparison with his waist. The red Henley he had worn today hugged his frame well, even if it was covered in motorcycle grease and filth from laying on the floor to work. Clearly, despite looking lean, John was strong.

As Arthur finished John’s cappuccino with cinnamon, the thought briefly crossed his mind to draw a heart in the foam, but he didn’t. That would be _too_ much—especially when Arthur was certain John was either taken, straight, or both. It would have just hurt what was left of Arthur’s self-esteem to have John laugh at the heart rather than take it as a serious attempt at flirting. Instead, Arthur cleared his throat to indicate John should turn around and Arthur slid his drink towards him once he was facing the right way. “A cappuccino with cream and cinnamon, and this one _does_ have the ‘coffee,’” Arthur said with a smirk.

“Hey, I need it. Thanks.” John took the drink and gave Arthur a small smile before retreating to a seat by the window to sip at the cappuccino. Arthur could not help but think, _So he is at least capable of drinking something regular_.

Minutes had passed and Arthur didn’t realize he was actually leaning on the counter, staring at John. He must have watched John try his coffee and then just didn’t _stop_. Normally, John was busy in his own head, but this time, he could practically feel Arthur’s gaze. He had to admit, it was strange and so he shouted out to Arthur, “Why don’t you quit eyeballin’ me and just come sit instead? Ain’t no customers besides me anyways.”

Arthur seemed a little startled since he hadn’t realized he was staring John down in the first place. At this point, he felt obligated to go sit with John to make things feel less weird. With a blush on his cheeks, Arthur left his post behind the counter to sit across from John where he was seated. “Sorry. Was just staring into space, I guess. Lost track of where I was.”

John gave Arthur an understanding nod as he took another sip of his drink. He didn’t say anything else to Arthur, so Arthur broke the silence with, “So what’s got you so…exhausted at work?”

“Bike Week.” John inhaled deeply and looked over into Arthur’s eyes. “Bike Week’s comin’ up and suddenly everyone needs their motorcycle fixed.”

“I imagine,” Arthur empathized and raised an eyebrow as he asked, “So you got any help in the shop? Someone to lighten the load?”

John looked up contemplatively and nodded once, “Yeah, guess I do. Owner’s daughter, Bonnie—she’s real smart, a quick learner, and been picking up things here and there. She’s helping me when she can.”

There was that jealousy again. Bonnie was probably a perfectly kind person, but Arthur felt jealous of her. Jealous of what? Maybe the fact she got to work with John, and that he was praising her so highly. “She your boy’s mother?” _Good one,_ he thought to himself, the blush on his face getting worse. There were about a thousand other, better, ways to reply to John than what he had just said.

“What?” John narrowed his eyes in a way that made Arthur want to throw himself out the nearest window. “No! No. She’s just…just a friend. I mean, she’s the boss’ daughter and you don’t mess with that.” John shook his head, wrinkling his nose.

“I’m sorry. That was too personal, you just—you seemed to think real high of her so I assumed there was something more to it,” Arthur said in a sad attempt to explain himself.

John seemed to relax a little and he took a sip of his drink. “Jack’s mom and I ain’t together. We uh…we get along, for the boy’s sake, but she had enough of me.” At that, John smiled a little, looking back to Arthur. “She used to work here, you know? It’s how I found out ‘bout this place.”

Now this, Arthur didn’t expect. One moment he was feeling relief at John sounding suddenly available and dare he say, responsible? The next moment Arthur was trying to think of who Jack’s mother could possibly be. Employees have come and gone in his time at the coffeehouse, but not _that_ many.

Then it hit Arthur. His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face, “Abigail?! No.”

“Yes.” John raised an eyebrow, confused as to why Arthur was so surprised.

“She quit when she was pregnant…said the father was a real winner,” Arthur couldn’t help, but laugh, even if the news was disappointing. So John _was_ a deadbeat after all.

“It ain’t like that no more,” John practically mumbled, looking down in shame. “Things are different now.”

Arthur felt sorry then, seeing the wounded expression on John’s face; he’d hit a sore spot. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the whole situation. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

John didn’t seem to hear Arthur’s apology and said, “It’s true. I wasn’t such a good father at first, but I’m trying now—for the boy.” He looked really uncomfortable now and stood up, his drink half-finished. “I should go. I’ll see you, Arthur.”

It was unlike John to leave a drink unfinished, and even more unlike him to not return his cup to the counter before leaving. The sight of the half-full cappuccino abandoned on the table made Arthur feel awful inside.  _Good going, Arthur_ , he thought.


	5. Mango Smoothie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hosea finds out about the situation with John.

The Van der Linde Coffeehouse itself may have bore Dutch’s name, but Hosea the one who _really_ kept the place running. With just one manager and three employees under Dutch and Hosea’s charge, there was a surprising amount that needed done. It would come to no one’s surprise that Arthur was their go-to employee whether it be picking up shifts, or staying late, he was there. So when Arthur’s performance started to slide, Hosea could tell the difference right away.

For an entire month, John hadn’t come in for drinks, the poetry reading, or open mic night and it _killed_ Arthur. Not only did he feel terrible about their last conversation, but he _missed_ his interactions with John, even if the man had a bad taste in drinks. He had hoped that John would come in just once so he could apologize.

Hosea had noticed that Arthur didn’t have as many smiles to give lately, lacked his usual enthusiasm, and was having difficulty connecting with customers to make small talk. Finally, after about a month of uncomfortable silence, Hosea had to pry. “What’s gotten into you, Arthur?”

Arthur looked up from cleaning the espresso machine and his eyes widened a little. “What? Me?”

“Yes, you! I don’t see anyone else moping in here quite like you,” Hosea teased with a smile to show he meant Arthur no harm. “Hell, the past month you’ve been sulking and quieter than usual. You didn’t even laugh at Micah’s attempt at ‘She Used To Love Me A Lot’ during Open Mic.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it was creepy,” Arthur smirked a little but kept focusing on his task.

“You still would have normally laughed,” Hosea countered, stepping closer to him. “So what’s bothering you?”

Arthur sighed deeply; Hosea clearly wasn’t interested in letting this go. “There was a customer who uh…you know,” Arthur mumbled as he blushed, focusing on scrubbing each piece of the espresso machine a little too intensely.

Hosea noticed the blush on Arthur’s face and sighed, knowing that look too well. “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about that Mary girl again? Anyone but her.”

“No! No, not her.” Arthur swallowed hard and looked away still. “ _Him_.”

“Oh, Arthur,” Hosea sighed, knowing this would be more complicated. He knew Arthur showed no sex or gender preference in his partners, but Hosea was old enough to know a same-sex crush was often tougher to approach.

“It ain’t anything too complicated, he doesn’t know. I just—the last time he was here, I insulted him on accident.” Arthur paused his scrubbing to look at Hosea finally.

“Well, next time he comes in, apologize for the misunderstanding. Easy as that!”

“That’s the problem, Hosea. He ain’t been back since that night and it’s been about a month.”

It hurt Hosea to see Arthur’s shoulders slump a little and look so defeated. “What the hell did you say exactly?” A part of Hosea was concerned Arthur was secretly insulting customers or something of the sort. Now that would be troublesome for Arthur _and_ bad for business.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Arthur could see the curious look on Hosea’s face. “Figured out he was the father of Abigail’s baby. You remember her? How she cursed that man up and down? I let it slip what she said and he was…hurt. Then I even laughed and made it worse.”

“John?!” Hosea’s eyes widened; of course he remembered Abigail and her problems with John. Abigail had been a great employee at the time. Now Arthur had a crush on her ex? What the hell was so attractive about him that he had interfered with _two_ of his employees now? “Really? _That_ John?”

Arthur looked confused but nodded anyways. “Yeah, Abigail’s John, I guess.”

“ _Oh_ , Arthur,” Hosea repeated himself with more emphasis this time. “Why couldn’t you fret over someone like Charles or Mary-Beth? They’re nice.”

“I know they’re nice, but…” _But I like John_ , Arthur wanted to say. His face was hot with shame and he started drying each piece of the espresso machine.

“Just…chin up, Arthur, okay? Pouting won’t help anyone, and you know Dutch likes you to be friendly with the customers.” Hosea watched Arthur, frowning a bit. He didn’t _like_ to see him sad; Arthur was like a son to him.

Arthur nodded, starting to reassemble the espresso machine. He’d at least try to get back in to his routine, even if John stayed upset with him or never came back, but Arthur didn’t want to think about the last option. Just then, Dutch hurried past and raised his hand to Hosea and Arthur. “Mango smoothie. My office, please!”

“See, Arthur. You want to be careful with who you surround yourself with.” Hosea smirked as he raised an eyebrow and walked away. Dutch could make his own damn smoothie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @ everyone commenting and showing this love! :D It's a big motivator so thank you!!


	6. Chestnut Hazelnut Almond Peanut Butter Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes his triumphant return.

It was another couple of weeks before John _finally_ showed his face in the coffeehouse again. He walked in, eyes wide and not making much noise as he approached the counter. Arthur’s back was to John as he swept the floor, too caught up in the music that was playing to hear the bell on the door as it open and shut. This time, John could get a real good look at Arthur.

He knew Arthur was tall since he matched John’s own height, but from here, John could see just how built Arthur was. His whole body looked strong, and John couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was doing in a coffeeshop when he could be playing football or doing construction. Before he let his thoughts carry him away, John cleared his throat and announced himself, “Hey.”

The sound of John’s voice made Arthur jump and he turned around, gripping the broom handle. He wasn’t sure if John was there to tell him off, talk, or just order a damn drink, so Arthur resorted to the usual. “Hey! John, uh…what can I get you?”

“Abigail told me you wanted to see me.” _So he’s here to tell me off_ , Arthur thought, closing his eyes for a moment to breathe in deeply.

After gathering himself, Arthur answered, “Uh…yeah. Wait. Abigail?” Arthur narrowed his eyes, looking genuinely confused; he hadn’t spoken to Abigail about any of this. Hell, he hadn’t talked to her since she left to go back to school.  

“Yeah, that older fellow who works here gave her a call, I guess. So what d’you want? To tell me more about how I’m a rotten father and—”

“No.” Arthur cut John off right there and shook his head before this could escalate into more conflict. “I wanted to apologize, that’s it. I didn’t mean to offend you then laugh about it or any of that, really. Wasn’t even my place to bring it up.”

“Damn right it wasn’t,” John agreed, but he seemed to visibly relax at Arthur’s apology. “But that ain’t all Abigail told me.”

At this, Arthur tensed. _What all did Hosea tell her?_ He wondered, palms starting to sweat from the stress of the situation. If Hosea told Abigail how Arthur was feeling about John, well, he might go out back and dig his own grave now using just the broom in his hands.

John smirked and met Arthur’s eyes. “She told me you been missing my drink orders.” Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. So, Hosea _hadn’t_ told her the rest of it.

“Yeah, sure, I been missin’ your drink orders. Now what will it be?”

“The super nut.”

 _Really? This is what I’d been missing so bad?_ Arthur thought as he ran a hand over his hair after leaning the broom against the counter. “Okay, do I even want to know what this one is?”

“Aw come on, you don’t know?” John teased with a smirk. “A latte with chestnut, hazelnut, almond, and peanut butter sauce.”

The thought made Arthur want to gag. “You serious?”

“Am I ever _not_ serious ‘bout my drinks, Arthur? Come on!”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur started to make the latte, adding two pumps of each flavor plus the peanut butter sauce. When it was done, he handed the latte to John, swallowing hard when their fingers touched while handing over the cup. John’s hands were rough and calloused, most likely from hard work at the garage; Arthur shouldn’t have been surprised at the feel of them. “This one’s on the house. Since the barista is apparently a real asshole,” Arthur said with a chuckle.

John smiled at Arthur fondly, tilting his head a little as he took the drink. “He’s terrible and you should really think about getting him fired.” He took the lid off to smell the coffee before drinking it. “Yep, tastes overwhelmingly nutty. Thanks, Arthur.” John met Arthur’s eyes, giving him a bigger smile as he turned to take a seat with his coffee. The smile told Arthur that John _really_ didn’t want him to leave the coffeehouse.

Arthur nodded, watching John take his seat. As Arthur picked up his broom again, he was relieved that things seemed back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! I couldn't keep John away for long.


	7. Water Chestnut Iced Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the coffeehouse and Hosea puts two and two together.

John came back for the monthly poetry reading and it was clear that tonight, he must have changed and cleaned up before coming to the coffeehouse. Instead of his messy work clothes, John wore his leather jacket, t-shirt, and fitted jeans with the holes. It was a look that Arthur had come to adore, a look that made his mouth go dry. His eyes made it to the worn, black cowboy boots John was wearing and he was picturing what John would look like in  _just_ the boots when—

“Arthur! So _this_ is John!” Hosea walked over from where he had been taking inventory and dramatically threw his clipboard while he raised both hands. The sound of the clipboard clattering to the floor made Arthur cringe, and he was already turning tomato red. The only reason Hosea could have _known_ that this guy was John was by how Arthur was ogling him.

“Hosea, don’t,” Arthur muttered, but John was already smirking as he approached the counter.

Ignoring Arthur’s pleas, Hosea asked, “Do you know how upset Arthur was that you weren’t coming in?”

Arthur wrapped one arm around himself and reached up with his free hand to rub it over his face. John chuckled at Hosea’s admission and watched Arthur for a moment, looking smug, before he turned his attention to Hosea again. “That so?”

“Oh yes! Worried you’d never come back, but here you are! Arthur, did you apologize?”

“Yes, sir. I apologized the last damn time he was here,” Arthur grumbled, letting his hands fall at his sides again. He was too nervous to even look up at John.

“And did you tell him the rest of it?” Hosea saw Arthur go to open his mouth and cut him off. “This one’s been swoonin’ over you like a schoolgirl with her first crush.”

“Hosea.” If Arthur was tomato red before, he was fire engine red now.

“No, no, let me finish! I bet if you opened up that little journal he keeps, it would probably be full of hearts that said ‘John + Arthur’ on the inside. Or ‘J+A,’ Arthur is a man of simplicity.”

“Yeah?” John smiled as he looked from Hosea to Arthur, amused with how absolutely humiliated Arthur looked. He couldn’t blame Arthur; everything Hosea said had been pretty damn embarrassing, even if he meant well. In John’s mind, he was more interested in the fact Arthur kept a _journal_. He had the urge to see what was in it—were there entries about him if Arthur really was so infatuated? What else did he write about?

“Yeah. Now what do you want to drink?” Arthur asked, his voice cracking. He had to change the topic, and fast; Arthur could feel himself withering away inside.

John looked at both men behind the counter again. He decided he’d press the issue further on his own terms—not in front of Hosea. “Um…yeah, uh, can I get a Water Chestnut?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, relaxing now that John was able to just move on without harassing him too. “You know we don’t got those, right?”

“It’s an iced coffee flavored with watermelon and chestnut, Arthur, duh. Water. Chestnut.”

“Are you—” Arthur glared at John, and he could hear Hosea chuckle behind him. He just shook his head before he got to work on John’s drink after taking his payment. Compared to John’s previous orders, this one really made Arthur want to gag. He couldn’t imagine the combination would be a good one.

When Arthur was done making the Water Chestnut, he sat it on the counter for John; he wouldn’t take the chance of their hands brushing this time. “Your uh, Water Chestnut is ready.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” John said as he picked up the drink. John gave Arthur a smile and wink before sitting down to listen to the night’s poetry readings, and Arthur felt himself blush all over again.

Tonight’s readings consisted mostly of the usual: Sadie’s worrying poetry on revenge and murder, Charles’ confusing philosophical reflections, and Mary-Beth’s outlandish fantasy epics. There were some new faces behind the mic though too. Pearson, the coffeehouse baker, recounted his time in Operation Desert Storm, something he didn’t talk about often to strangers. Arthur found himself softened towards Pearson as he listened to his poetry, and he’d probably write about it later in his journal.

By the end of the night, Arthur was surprised to see John had once again actually finished his drink and stayed the whole time. He laughed to himself, shaking his head as he cleaned up behind the counter. Patrons were beginning to file out of the coffeehouse while Arthur was crouched down, wiping down a mini refrigerator. He heard John say, “Give this to Arthur, would ya?” _What the hell is that about?_ Arthur thought to himself, standing up slowly.

Hosea was headed in Arthur’s direction, looking very smug once he reached him. “Your boyfriend left this for you,” Hosea grinned in amusement, handing Arthur a napkin that had a phone number written on it accompanied by: —John. Arthur felt sick as he looked down at it.


	8. S'mores Frappuccino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur texts John and they manage to set something up.

Arthur sat in his bed with just a nearby lamp on, staring at his phone in contemplation. He entered John’s name, his number, chose “Add Contact,” and then took a deep breath. _Good job, Morgan,_ he thought, _good first step_. This was a lot more stressful than he imagined it would be.

He took another deep breath to calm down as he typed: “Hey, this is Arthur, from the coffeehouse,” then hit “Send.” That first text made Arthur want to throw up and he thought, _What am I? 15 again?_

If he thought sending the text was bad, getting a reply was worse. Arthur read it aloud, “Hey.” He narrowed his eyes in frustration. “Are you kiddin’ me?!” He hissed. The text lacked emotion and it gave Arthur the anger to reply back quickly: “Really? Just ‘hey.’ That’s it? How am I even supposed to answer that?”

Arthur regretted the reply as soon as he sent it, but he couldn’t take it back. He buried his face in one hand, sighing as he soon heard his phone notify him of a new text.

“Sorry. dont text much n wasnt sure what 2 say. how r u?”

 _Great, he’s illiterate_ , Arthur thought. He answered: “I’m okay. What are you up to?”

John was pretty quick at answering: “nothin. u got a life outside coffee?”

These texts were making Arthur like John less and less. What did he even mean by that? “Yes, I have a life outside work, if that’s what you mean. Do you have a life outside being a mechanic?”

“Just joking. no i dont have a life. want 2 get more coffee soon? u and me?” If this was John’s attempt at asking him on a date, Arthur had to roll his eyes, and yet, he felt giddy at the prospect of it.

“Sure. Name the time and place, I’ll be there.”

“ok how about saturday 6pm starbucks? bring ur journal.”

Arthur wasn’t thrilled about setting foot in a Starbucks, but it would give them the privacy that the Van der Linde Coffeehouse couldn’t. Now the journal, _that_ was an odd request. He texted back, “Sure.”

\--

On Saturday evening, Arthur stood outside of Starbucks awkwardly waiting for John to show. Granted, he was fifteen minutes early, but Arthur was understandably nervous about the whole thing. He rocked on his heels back and forth in an attempt to calm his nerves with movement.

For the “date,” if that’s what it was, Arthur had put on a light blue denim button-up with black jeans and brown leather boots. He had rolled his sleeves up to show off his muscular arms, but _only_ because Mary-Beth once told him how nice he looked that way and he took her word for it. Slung across his chest was a brown leather satchel containing his wallet, keys, pens, and journal, per John’s request. He still had no idea what that was about.

John showed up at 6:01pm on the dot and really, Arthur was surprised he wasn’t later than that. John looked just as uneasy as Arthur did, but his outfit made Arthur think, _He sure does clean up nice_. He wore a black denim shirt, black jeans—without holes this time, and his black cowboy boots; it was a _good_ look that made Arthur think of Johnny Cash or someone like that.

“You look nice,” Arthur said sheepishly, smiling when John walked up to him.

“What? You ain’t gonna scold me for bein’ a minute late?” John returned his smile, and Arthur could have sworn he saw a faint blush on John’s cheeks too.

“Just don’t let it happen again,” he joked as they walked into Starbucks. The look of the place made Arthur let out an audible sigh, shaking his head once.

First, Arthur ordered himself a blonde roast with hazelnut. When he insisted on buying John’s drink, John declined, so he only paid for his own. Arthur wondered what John would order—a latte with cinnamon and dragon fruit maybe?  _He’ll call it the Fiery Dragon_ , Arthur thought, smiling to himself.

But then John did the unexpected; he ordered a perfectly normal S’mores Frappuccino, causing Arthur’s jaw to drop a little.

As they waited for their drinks to be made, Arthur turned to John and said softly, “What the hell’s that about?”

“What the hell is what about?” John answered, looking over at Arthur, genuinely confused.

“Your drink. No Water Chestnut? No Super Nut? Just a plain ol’ S’mores Frappuccino?” Arthur asked in a bewildered tone, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to read John.

“Oh! Yeah, I was just trying to get your attention. Except for the Red Bull—now _that_ , I needed.” John smirked playfully as they each grabbed their respective drink and took a window seat for two.

“Wait, what?! You serious? All this time you had me thinking you just…were a real freak, you know that?” Arthur was in shock, his jaw slack but starting to form a smile.

“You remembered me, didn’t you?”

“There’s other ways to get a man’s attention, John.” Arthur blushed as he said it, taking a sip of his coffee. He may have been drinking behind enemy lines, but he had to admit, it tasted good.

“Like what? I wanted you to remember me,” John said the last part in a softer tone before taking a nervous sip of his drink too.

“So uh…you go on dates often or is this just a rare occasion?” Arthur looked for a change in subject, and hoped John wouldn’t be offended by the question. He imagined a man who looked like John got asked out quite a bit.

“Who said this was a date?” John shot back in a serious tone, but he soon broke into a grin when he saw Arthur’s horrified expression. “I’m just messin’ with you. ‘Course this is a date—I didn’t drink that shit Water Chestnut for nothing. And to answer your other question, I don’t go on a lot of dates.”

Arthur laughed a bit, visibly relaxing after John’s teasing. “Then why me?” Anyone who knew Arthur knew that he was his own worst enemy and that he didn’t have a high opinion of himself.

“I don’t know…you always been kind. You joked around with me, and you were nice to my boy. The shallow reasons? I liked how you looked when I first walked into the café.” John let his eyes look Arthur over once more for emphasis.

“Coffeehouse,” Arthur corrected, smirking as he did it. His face was red from John’s complements, even if he had a hard time believing them.

“ _Coffeehouse_ ,” John repeated with emphasis and a roll of his eyes. “So why’d you decide to accept? ‘Specially if my drink choices bothered you so bad that you thought I was a freak.”

“Shallow reasons.” Arthur mocked John’s previous quip with a smirk. “But also, you seemed nice too. I liked how you came to just watch poetry and uh…you sing real good too.”

“Thanks.” John eyed Arthur, looking a little shy now; he wasn’t used to complements either, especially about his voice. “You like poetry though? That what you keep in the journal Hosea was talkin’ about?”

Arthur swallowed hard, thinking of last time Hosea pretty much roasted him alive in front of John. “Nah, just notes and reflections. Drawings. Stuff like that.”

“Can I see it?” John still liked that Arthur kept a journal; it impressed him that Arthur cared that much to bother with it.

“Absolutely not.”

“You brought it didn’t you? Let me see just one drawing, come on,” John begged, smirking as he leaned over the table to get closer to Arthur. “Please?”

Arthur sighed as he started to reach into his bag for the leather-bound journal. “Just _one_ drawing. That’s it. And only ‘cause I’m a sucker for a pretty face.” He wished John would understand what this meant to him; that Arthur _never_ shared his journal with anyone. To see even a single drawing of his was a big deal.

John looked eager as Arthur opened to a page where he had utilized both sides to create a two-page piece featuring a wooded clearing with a deer crossing the path. The drawing was gorgeous, and it put a smile on John’s face to see it. “Damn, and you did that with _just_ pencil. You got a real talent there.”

“Not talent, just years of practice.” Arthur found himself fondly watching John’s face while he studied Arthur’s sketch. “What I mean is, thank you,” Arthur corrected himself. When John glanced up from the drawing, still all smiles, he met Arthur’s eyes and looked so genuinely pleased. Maybe Arthur would show him some more of the journal sometime. Maybe he’d even show John the drawing of him playing guitar at Open Mic. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Marston has a Motorola from 2015 in case anyone was wondering.


	9. Chocolate Milkshake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes a big step in opening up to John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in this chapter! :D I unexpectedly adopted a second cat (I didn't think they would give me him the same day I filled out the app ahhhhh) and then this past weekend was Pride so I have been BUSY BUSY BUSY. Enjoy!

Arthur thought the first date went pretty damn well, so they went on a few more. Another Starbucks, breakfast at a local diner, dinner at a Taco Bell of all places because John wanted “tacos,” and they even saw a movie—which was awful by the way, but made better with quiet commentary that got them shushed a few times by other people in the theater.

Today, they agreed to meet at a nearby state park when they both got off work. Arthur was early as usual; apparently, he had been acting so antsy Grimshaw _made_ him leave the coffeehouse early. So now, he sat down under a big tree to sketch alone as he waited for John to show. Seated against the tree, he glanced around for a subject. Arthur couldn’t help but smile when he saw a pair of grey squirrels chasing each other around a large oak tree; that would work well enough.

It was a quick sketch, but a good one, and as he was finishing it, John was rolling up in the isolated lot on his motorcycle. The sight of John in a leather jacket, with his now trademark black jeans and boots, made Arthur blush as he watched him. _Now_ there  _is something to draw_ , he thought. John parked next to Arthur’s truck, getting off his bike and pulling his helmet off. His hair was flattened a little so John shook his head in an attempt to give it a little volume again.

John saw Arthur right away, under the tree with his journal; it was a visual that made John smile. He walked up to Arthur, taking a seat right next to him before cozying up to Arthur’s side. “Hey, cowboy,” he teased.

It was a playful nickname John had started to call Arthur—a nickname that made Arthur redden a little each time. John called him it because he said Arthur was _always_ outdoors when he wasn’t at work, which was mostly true. It was an aspect of Arthur’s personality that John hadn’t expected, especially from a guy working at a coffeehouse.

“Hey,” he answered, glancing over at John with a gentle smile. “How was work?”

“Fine, but still busy as all hell! Bonnie took over so I could leave a little early to get cleaned up, that way I didn’t come here smellin’ like mayonnaise left out in the damn sun.”

Sometimes, Arthur was pretty sure the expressions John used were expressions only John would fully understand. It made him laugh and he nodded, appreciative that Bonnie was willing to do that for them. “Well now that you’re here, I made you a promise.”

“Oh! So, you were serious? You’re actually gonna let me see your journal?” John scooted closer to Arthur, practically glued to his side now. He grabbed at the book like a toddler and Arthur let him take it so he could look at it at his leisure.

It only took the turn of a couple pages and Arthur was already blushing. John didn’t even get to the parts where they met yet, but just the act of John seeing his most private thoughts, his cherished drawings, and what inspired him, was enough to embarrass Arthur.

When John reached the part where they met, his expression softened a little. Sometimes he’d laugh and even John turned the faintest bit of red when he turned to the page where Arthur sketched him playing guitar during Open Mic. “I really look like this to you?”

“What?” Arthur laughed nervously. He was afraid John was offended by the depiction. “Just drew how you look.”

“I don’t look _that_ good.”

Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes a bit. He was relieved to know John didn’t find the drawing offensive in a bad way. “You’re full of shit, Johnny. You look _that_ good.”

John held the journal open and he looked up at Arthur, searching his eyes. He didn’t understand what Arthur saw in him. The person he drew couldn’t have been the same person he actually was. The only thing John could do was lean in to kiss Arthur softly, smiling against his lips.

It was a kiss full of admiration and gratitude. Arthur reached up to rest a hand on John’s cheek, tilting his head so he could deepen the kiss with ease. Both of their eyes fell closed, and when Arthur heard John make a little noise into the kiss, it felt like a punch to his gut. He wanted to keep kissing John, he thought about _more_ , but they were in a damn park, so Arthur pulled away.

“You know,” John licked his lips, meeting Arthur’s eyes, “You can kiss me like that any time.”

Arthur blushed and wrapped an arm around John’s waist to tug him a little closer so they could finish flipping through the journal. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once they reached the end of the journal and John closed it, Arthur was more relaxed. “So, what’d you think?”

“I think you’re a real sap, Mr. Morgan,” John looked over at Arthur with a playful smile. “A real talented sap.”

“Thanks, John.” Arthur smiled at John fondly and leaned in to kiss him lightly again. “You want to go get some dinner or something?”

“Or milkshakes?”

“Milkshakes ain’t dinner, John.” Arthur scoffed, standing up before he offered a hand to help John up too.

“A nice big chocolate milkshake from McDonald’s.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, laughing as he walked with John towards their vehicles. “Still ain’t dinner, _especially_ from a damn McDonald’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I was considering making this work a part of a series and then writing other fics set in this AU.......thoughts and anyone in particular you'd like to see? I was also thinking about writing an ~explicit~ one shot as a sort of epilogue or side note to this fic. So is anyone interested in any of these things?


	10. Coffee with a Little Bit of Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John surprises Arthur at Open Mic Night.

John had missed July’s Open Mic Night due to a particularly demanding client. He wanted to tell Officer Ross to get fucked, but money was money, even if it _was_ police money; especially with the amount of work that needed done on the vintage piece he had brought in. John would be damned if he was missing the last Open Mic of summer though and made sure he could attend the August one.

When he walked into the coffeehouse, John grinned seeing at Arthur. He no longer had to order terrible drinks to try and get Arthur’s attention; John knew he already had it, and so he ordered a medium coffee with a little bit of sugar. While he waited for Arthur to get his order, John leaned over the counter to get a better view of Arthur so he could ask, “You busy after work tonight, Arthur?”

“Don’t know, John. You got some plans for me?” Arthur smiled as he looked up from the drink, stirring the sugar in before placing a lid on it. He handed John the coffee, meeting his eyes now that they were closer in proximity.

“Maybe.” John gave Arthur a teasing smile as he took the coffee. “Just thought it might be nice to go over your place when you get off.”

Even if John _was_ inviting himself over, Arthur hardly minded. It was nice to have company and Arthur was finding he _liked_ John’s assertiveness. Also, by now, both men knew Arthur had the nicer apartment between the two. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

This answer only made John smile more and he picked up his coffee to go find a seat. Before he turned away, John tilted his head in Arthur’s direction. “And make sure you pay attention tonight, alright?”

“I always pay attention, John,” Arthur answered with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling when John gave him a wink.

“To me!” John corrected, making Arthur laugh a little, waving him away to go find a seat.

Many of the usuals were in attendance that night: Sadie and Charles with their poetry, then Javier and Karen each playing a song. Newcomer Tilly Jackson sang too and was damn good at it.

At the end of the evening, John was the last to take the small stage, once again borrowing Javier’s guitar. He sat on a stool and gave the guitar a few practice strums, humming along to find the right pitch. Arthur had been told to pay attention, so he was, ceasing his work to lean on the counter and listen. He wondered what the hell John was going to sing that was worth telling him to pay attention to.

“ _I keep a close watch on this heart of mine_ ,” John began with a smile on his face. “ _I keep my eyes wide open all the time, I keep the ends out for the tie that binds…because you're mine, I walk the line._ ”

Arthur’s face was extremely red almost instantly; he knew the song was for _him_. Who else could it be for? As John continued, Arthur wrung the towel in his hands—he couldn’t believe John was doing this for  _him_ of all people.

“ _I find it very, very easy to be true, I find myself alone when each day's through.”_ John glanced up from the guitar to make sure Arthur was watching him. He smiled widely yet again as he delivered the next lines, “ _Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you, Because you're mine, I walk the line.”_

If Arthur was blushing before, he couldn’t imagine how he looked now, especially with John smiling at him like that. Emotionally, he felt so damn _full_ , it was overwhelming. Arthur was even more glad John would be coming over after.

 _“As sure as night is dark and day is light,_  
I keep you on my mind both day and night,  
And happiness I've known proves that it's right,  
Because you're mine, I walk the line.

 _You've got a way to keep me on your side._  
You give me cause for love that I can't hide.  
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide,  
Because you're mine, I walk the line.

 _I keep a close watch on this heart of mine._  
I keep my eyes wide open all the time.  
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds,  
Because you're mine, I walk the line.”

As John finished the song, he was met with applause, and Arthur’s was undoubtedly the most enthusiastic. Arthur turned his head to see Hosea smiling at him knowingly, to which Arthur rolled his eyes. At least Hosea had done a good job keeping Dutch busy so Arthur could enjoy the song without Dutch telling him to get back to work.

When John finally made his way back to the counter after returning Javier’s guitar and saying his goodbyes, Arthur was finishing the last tasks of the night. “So uh…what’d you think?”

Arthur whipped around to look at John, the blush returning to his face. “I think you’re a damn fool,” Arthur began, but he could have sworn he visibly saw John’s heart drop, so he continued right away, “A lovesick fool. But…but I really liked it, John.” He wanted to say more, but not _there_ , not at the coffeehouse. For now, that would have to do.

John perked up then— _of course_ he was a lovesick fool, it was the point of the damn song. He smiled, knowing Arthur couldn’t say much more there, “Am I still invited over?”

“Invited over? I _insist_ you come over. This way…” Arthur paused with his rag still in hand, leaning over the counter so he could talk quieter, “I can really show you how much I loved that song.”

This time, it was John’s turn to redden, but he liked the sound of that. “I’ll be waiting outside then,” John said with a smirk.

While Arthur closed up the coffeehouse, John leaned against his motorcycle, lighting up a cigarette. He hadn’t felt so good in a long time.

\--

The whole ride to Arthur’s was like torture. John had been tempted to leave his bike at the coffeehouse so he could ride with Arthur, but he _never_ left his bike anywhere, so he followed Arthur back to his place instead.

When John had first seen Arthur’s apartment it was pretty much all John had imagined it would be. A smaller one-bedroom place with a few plants on the outside deck. It was very _Arthur_.

After the emotional night they had at the coffeehouse, John felt ready to pounce on Arthur the moment they got in the door. He _loved_ him, wanted to show it, and clearly Arthur felt similarly. It was a lot to take in.

“You know to make yourself at—” Arthur was cut off by a needy kiss. Talk could wait, John decided, and he had reached up to hold Arthur’s face as he kissed him

Arthur wasn’t much better; he let himself be interrupted, instead closing his eyes as he relaxed into John’s kiss. But this wasn’t how the night was _supposed_ to go—Arthur had made plans the moment John finished that song, and so he broke the kiss. “Wait.”

John looked confused as Arthur placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “Just…wait here. Actually, have a seat, but wait.”

Tilting his head in confusion, John sat on the couch, looking a little disappointed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m waiting,” he said as Arthur left the room to go into his bedroom.

Arthur came back out with his journal in hand and sat down on the couch. He wasn’t the best with words, so he wasn’t sure how this would go, but he opened up to the entry where he wrote about how much he liked John’s music. Arthur had also drawn a picture of him on that first Open Mic Night while he sang. Wordlessly, Arthur placed the journal in John’s lap for him to see.

Holding the journal open, John looked at the words and drawing closely. At first, he had been annoyed Arthur had pulled away from his kiss, but _now_ he understood what Arthur had probably meant by showing how much he had appreciated the song. Looking up from the journal, John looked overwhelmed with emotion, and he swallowed hard. “You…you’re a real sweet man, Arthur.”

“I just…I really liked your music then and tonight? That was special, what you did for me.” Arthur smiled now and he thought about how no one had done anything like that for him ever. “I loved the song and hell, I love you, John. I know I do.”

 “I love you too, Arthur,” John echoed back without hesitation, smiling wider now. “I’ll sing for you anytime.”

“Yeah? I’d like that.”

“Any song you’d like!” John laughed, closing the journal and handing it back to Arthur carefully. John may have been a strange man, but Arthur was quickly learning that John was eager to please the ones he loved, and it was a rare quality to find in a man. Arthur wouldn’t let John go, and he was ready to accept John with any of his flaws. Maybe this one wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in this! I got really busy, but I hope you enjoy the conclusion! I do think I'm going to write more for this AU. :D


End file.
